


Age

by bubble_bones



Series: Ariwyn and Solas [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, General angst though (no direct conflict, just Solas toturing himself with his brain again)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubble_bones/pseuds/bubble_bones
Summary: Ariwyn asks him many questions every day, and with every one of them he is reminded again and again why he loves her. She has such a beautiful nature; ever curious, ever seeking new knowledge. He has found in her a kindred spirit, the last thing he had expected to come across in this barren new world. She is bright and clever and simply wonderful. From the way she speaks in her curious Elven dialectic accent, to the gorgeous noises of rapture she makes when he is between her legs. Everything about her fascinates him as much as his knowledge intrigues her.Yet this question he doesn't have an answer for, not right away.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Ariwyn and Solas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007619
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Age

**Author's Note:**

> An actually short one-shot that ISN'T smut??? I know, who am I and what have I done with Bubbles?
> 
> Anyway - I wanted to write something to take my mind off things irl and this is what I produced. Vague angst because Solas cannot stop his thoughts for 5 seconds so he can breathe. Please enjoy his mental gymnastics of figuring out a convincing, I-am-not-an-immortal-elven-god-of-trickery lie to tell his young and pretty gf.

"How old are you?" 

Ariwyn asks him many questions every day, and with every one of them he is reminded again and again why he loves her. She has such a beautiful nature; ever curious, ever seeking new knowledge. He has found in her a kindred spirit, the last thing he had expected to come across in this barren new world. She is bright and clever and simply wonderful. From the way she speaks in her curious Elven dialectic accent, to the gorgeous noises of rapture she makes when he is between her legs. Everything about her fascinates him as much as his knowledge intrigues her. 

Yet this question he doesn't have an answer for, not right away. 

"Why do you ask?" he says, and throws her a gentle smile over his shoulder. She is perched on the edge of his desk chair, watching him work with the book she had meant to be reading forgotten in her lap. 

Her cheeks are flushed, as if the question had been ill-considered before it slipped from her lips. "I-I was just curious." she stutters, "I want to know everything I can about you, is all." 

_I know_ , he almost says, but admitting it aloud would be directly proving the barrier he refuses to let her tear down is real. Such personal questions he usually dodged; when she had asked about his family he had been vague and pretended the memories haunt him beyond talking of them. And in a way, they do, for he thinks of the life-long companions he left behind when he formed the Veil, and his heart weeps. When she had asked about his past, his upbringing, he had lied; claimed he was from a dull and quiet village from the north and directed her questioning to his fascination from the Fade. It was easier to talk then, because everything he told her was only the truth. 

But this question is harmless, mostly. If only he knew of a reasonable number to lie about. 

Death from age existed here, in this cold world he has woken in. Immortality is a distant myth only the Dalish believe in - a blessing once stripped from them not by his Veil, but by the arrival of humans. And, truthfully, he had not put much stock in the value of age anymore. In Arlathan, such things did not matter once you had lived the first hundred years and become respected as an adult. He had lost count after his first few centuries, when he first met Mythal; when she was but a woman, before she ascended to Godhood at the end of her long and bloody war. And here and now, it did not matter much either. He did not care how many years Varric had walked the earth - pointedly _not_ under it - or how many months it took Cassandra to get through her Seeker training. How different are the lifespans of humans against dwarves - qunari against elves? 

Ariwyn is waiting, and quiet patiently. He realises he has lapsed into a thought far too long for this response to sound reasonably confident, and so he plays into his insecurity. 

"I…" he begins, and wets his lips. "I fear my answer might disappoint you." 

_Because I don't have one_ , says a little voice in his head. 

"Disappoint me?" she asks with wide, green eyes. 

"Yes. I can only assume you are quite young yourself." 

She huffs, somewhere between a coy laugh and one of utter amusement. "I'm not a child, if that's what you're saying." she giggles, "I wouldn't have these markings if I was. I'm twenty-six." 

Solas tries not to allow himself to visibly register his shock. _Only twenty-six?_ A woman like Ariwyn would be respected as an intelligent and independent woman in Arlathan - one with perhaps a reasonable wealth of power and followers, not unlike the Inquisition now, he supposes. Such things would only come to one who had spent centuries if not more living amongst the People. He realised time was not on the side of the elves, anymore - but to consider oneself an accomplished adult with so few years to one's name? He feels a little dizzy, and tries not to show it. How many years do they have left? How many years does she… A sudden and violent fear grips his heart. If twenty-six is at least some ways into adulthood, how much longer will she have? 

He should really be considering the remainder of his own life, in truth, considering his goals - considering what he alone knows. Yet he cannot get his mind off her. Of the thought of her growing old and dying because of mistake. 

" _Vhenan_ , are you alright?" she asks softly. When had she gotten so close? She is on her feet before him, hands reaching out to his face. Her skin is soft against his, warm and strong. It reassures him, a little. 

"I'm fine. Merely… Surprised." he lies. And she accepts it with a gentle smile. 

"What, I'm older than you thought?" she laughs, "Did I really do myself that little justice with my behaviour when we first met?" 

_Uncertain and shaky, stumbling through the snow. Her fingers were red and so was the tip of her nose, and she shivered so violently until he offered her his coat. She looked so young and frail - terrified of what this all might mean. What had she done to deserve to be trapped in his work?_

"No." he lies again, "If anything I am surprised you are not older. You behave as if you have known command for years, and you naturally possess qualities for leadership." 

"Aha, that's because I was First to my clan, remember?" she is finally starting to talk about it without pain - evidently, at least. He knows she misses them. "From a young age my Keeper taught me everything she knew. So I was technically ready to lead my clan. I suppose the Inquisition is just a bigger test of it all." 

"And will you go back when this is over? Lead your clan?" 

It is the first time he has asked her about her future. It surprises her as much as it does him - usually he avoided such topics like a plague, terrified of where it might spiral, of what seeds it might plant in his mind. The thoughts of him following her wherever she chooses next; of building a life with her and choosing happiness over the path of death he has planned. Of a future of their shared home, of a child with her dazzling eyes and his freckles. Before, he had never wanted such things. The idea of even spending forever with only one person, of _wanting_ to father a child - they had never crossed his mind. Eternity meant there was no need to want everything. And yet with her, such things are suddenly a painful and desirable, selfish idea. 

"I don't know yet." she says with a shrug. She chews her lip before saying, "After this is over, we'll see. But you're distracting me from my question." 

He is, yes. However, he is more focused on her words - on, "We'll see." _We_. 

"You really wish to know?" he asks, and makes himself laugh. Pretending to be insecure helps his case, he realises. It gives him time to think, to weave together a convincing lie. 

"Yes!" Ariwyn rolls her eyes, and gives him a pleading look. "Come on, just tell me. It'll be our little secret." 

He cannot look much older than her, surely. He has seen what age does to people - the wrinkles, the tired skin, the even tireder eyes. In the mirror, he sees creases in his brow, in the corners of his eyes when he smiles, yet otherwise his face and body remains visibly age-free. But it would not do well to lie and say he is only a few years older than her, because his mind would not match. He knows how he must appear to anyone else; he knows too much for a young man, speaks too orderly and uses words boys in the Inquisition wouldn't even think of. He thinks of the men in Ariwyn's Inner Circle, tries to place a number on their faces. It is almost hopeless, he thinks. Perhaps if he had a better idea of what age men begin to show it, then he would have a better estimate, and then he could place a better age on himself-

"Solas, you're doing it again." 

"Hm?" he blinks, and his gut twists at the look on her face - hope that has been trodden on, torn up and discarded. As if she had hoped to finally wriggle one little secret from him about himself. "I am sorry, I merely… I was counting." 

"Counting?" she echoes. It isn't a complete lie, not really. He was seeing how many years between her age and his fictional one would seem reasonable. 

"I will be forty in two months' time." 

"Oh." 

He waits with baited breath while she considers it. She doesn't seem taken aback - or even disappointed like he'd said she would be. Instead, shockingly, she is surprised. 

"I was honestly beginning to think you wouldn't tell me." she admits. "You always avoid my questions about yourself, so… Well I thought you'd just avoid this one too." 

Solas is unsure of how he might respond to that. He sighs. "I have good reason to not tell-" 

"Not to tell me and you can't tell me the reason either, I know." 

And now she sounds upset. His brows draw together, and he cups her cheek in his hand. 

"I am sorry, _vhenan_." he runs a thumb across the curve of her vallaslin under her eye, and she blinks up at him. Those dazzlingly wonderful eyes of hers - reminiscent of his beloved Fade. 

"It's okay." she whispers, and then with more surety, says, "It's okay. I learned something new about you today, that's a victory in itself." 

Ariwyn is trying to smile at him, but he can merely see the pain underneath. He wants to heal it like he might a wound - be forced to tear away at her mask of happiness and repair it from the inside. It would be so easy to tell her everything she wants to know. If he just said one sentence, one _measly_ sentence, then the rest would just come pouring out. He wouldn't be able to stop until she knew everything. 

_I am Fen'Harel_. 

That is all he had to say. Yet he cannot do that to her. He cannot make her carry the weight of the entire elven people on her shoulders like he does. It is his burden. She does not deserve it. She does not…

"Solas?"

"Yes, _vhenan_?" 

She is frowning again. "You were just looking sad. I didn't want you getting too caught up in that head of yours." she reaches out and smooths a hand across his brow, tugs gently at his ear, and he smiles. "That's better. Now, would you rather I make you aware _now_ that you'll be having a surprise birthday party in two months, or will you know when you turn up to your surprise birthday party in two months?" 

He barks a laugh - he cannot help it. 

"It is not a surprise if I know." he teases, and she grins. Offset dimples appear in her cheek - one higher and deeper than the other. 

"I know, and I also know you _hate_ surprises. Unless it's the waking-up-to-me-on-top-of-you kind of surprise. I know you like those surprises." 

_Fenedhis_ , she is a minx. He taps at her chin with a scolding look, and she merely laughs. A celebration, for a false birthday, commemorating a lie. Would she ever know the truth of his age? Would _he_? It lost all importance when he became Fen'Harel - he became a symbol, a weapon against the Evanuris. He wasn't a person anymore. 

But she makes him want to be more than a wolf now. He wants to be a man again - a man with silly numbers to his name, a man with desires for his own, limited life. A man who can happily walk with her into a future together. 

Ariwyn gives him a little smile and tells him with some disappointment that she has to go. He is disappointed to see her go, as well. Dorian will complain about seeing it, but she kisses him before she leaves - a tender little peck that makes him wish it did not have to be goodbye for now. 

_For now._ When will the kiss they share become their last? When will he break her heart? 

He watches her walk away. He does not want her to go.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide an age I actually *liked* for Solas' lie so... Please let me know what you'd headcanon his age as if you have opinions! I picture somewhere between late-thirties, mid-fourties, and ended up vaguely in the middle.
> 
> Anyhow, I have more things in the works, but because I'm all over the place in this timeline I'm having to edit things that come AFTER When in Orlais to reflect new events in that fic and... My brain is dumb dumb. Please look forward to future things with my silly in-love elves!


End file.
